


An Uncle's Job

by MDJensen



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Danny Williams is a good uncle, Eric canonically feels that Danny "saved his life", Family Feels, Gen, so there's definitely a story there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MDJensen/pseuds/MDJensen
Summary: Nobody ever said an uncle’s job was glamorous— or that it fit neatly within business hours.Aka, five times that Danny loses sleep over his nephew.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 79





	An Uncle's Job

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for implication of domestic abuse; absolutely no details/description

_1988_

“Danny. Danny? _Danny_!”

It’s Stella’s voice.

“Jesus Christ,” she grunts, “you’re a heavy sleeper.”

Danny grumbles back, awake enough to know that he’s not making sense but still too asleep to help it. He pries one eye open. His sister’s beside his bed, bending down to see him in the lower bunk; his nephew’s on her hip.

“Can he sleep with you? He’s asking.”

“Wha’?”

“Eric,” Stella snaps. “Can Eric sleep with you? He had a nightmare.”

“Oh,” Danny mumbles. “Sure.”

An instant later there’s another weight on his mattress; then a big lump of toddler plops mostly on top of his chest. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Okay,” Eric mutters, and Danny can feel the words against his neck, where his nephew’s face is mushed.

“You had a bad dream?”

“I got scared.”

“Oh, okay.” Danny fights off a yawn; hears Stella closing the door again. “That’s okay.”

Pop’s always worn his watch to bed; when Danny felt old enough, he started wearing his too. He fumbles with it now. Flips up the plastic Ghostbusters logo and squints at the display it reveals.

It’s not even 1am yet. Plenty of time left to sleep, so he just closes his eyes and presses a kiss to his little nephew’s head. “You feel safe now, E?”

“Safe now, D,” Eric whispers, snuggling closer.

*

_1995_

He’d found it in his heart to take the kid home, afterwards; so instead of being out and about like he should be, Danny’s in bed stupid early. Like, _stupid_ early.

He could go back out. Catch up with the guys, wherever they’d ended up, but frankly watching Eric get so fucking upset has put Danny in a miserable mood himself. Nothing seems fun right now anyway. So he settles for tossing, and turning, and listening to Matty’s dying-pig snores coming from the top bunk.

That’s all he’s got to occupy himself.

Until at some point there’s a tiny knock at the door; then it’s pushing open, despite the lack of reply. In the new light, Danny glances down at his bootleg Chronoswiss. It’s just past midnight; Halloween’s over and his dumbass nephew ruined it.

It’s this same dumbass nephew who’s now entered the room. “I can’t sleep,” he announced, quietly.

Danny scoffs. “And?”

Eric— in an unexpected move— holds his ground. He draws himself up taller, glares at Danny despite the tears in his eyes. But his chin wobbles as he speaks. “Aren’t you sorry?”

“Am I sorry?” Danny snaps. “That you’re a pansy fucking piss-baby? Yeah, I’m sorry, ‘cause you ruined my fucking night.” And he flops onto his other side, and shuts his eyes.

For a moment all he can hear is Eric sniffling. Then comes the creak of the ladder; the closing of the door; and Matty’s voice murmuring, “hey little man, come up top with me.”

“No! I want Uncle D. I want my Uncle D!”

“Uncle D’s in a bad mood. Come on, we’ll have a sleepover.”

“No!” Eric’s sobbing now. With a grunt Danny rolls back over to watch, in silhouette, as his brother tries to stop their nephew from getting to the bottom bunk.

“Let him stay, Matty.”

“Are you gonna stop being a dick to him?”

“Fuck _off_ , Matt,” Danny snaps. “Go back up, go back to sleep. Eric wants to stay here, he can stay here.”

He doesn’t need to see Matty’s face to know the withering look he’s being given. He doesn’t react; just turns over to once again face the wall.

Matty sighs, climbs back up.

Still blubbering quietly, Eric crawls into Danny’s bunk and, as best as Danny can tell, curls up on the opposite edge. There’s a tug on the blanket, and Danny lets it move.

They fall asleep, eventually, back-to-back.

But some time before sunrise Danny wakes again; finds Eric snuggled up tight against his shoulder. Finds an arm around his waist, little fingers gripping the hem of his shirt.

He sighs. Rubs his face; and finds that he, in his sleep, has been crying too.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Danny whispers. Eric, of course, does not reply.

*

_2003_

Danny jerks awake to the first knock; anxiety has long since made him a light sleeper, and fatherhood’s only made it worse.

There’s a touch on his arm. Rachel’s up, too.

“F’ckin’ times’it?” Danny mutters, pushing upright.

“Just past two. Are you going down? You should take your gun—”

But Danny can see the driveway from their bedroom window; and the car that’s there, parking his own in, is familiar.

“’s Matty,” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus Christ, ‘m gonna kill ‘im.”

“Is everything all right?”

“How should I know, Rach? Go back to sleep.”

And maybe she will or maybe she won’t; he doesn’t know, because he’s already headed downstairs.

The knocking has only gotten worse. It’s more of a pounding now, really, and Danny’s hyping himself up to give his brother a good talking-to when he catches the face through the little pane of glass. For unknown reasons it makes his stomach flop. He undoes the locks, wrenches open the door— and staggers under the sudden weight of his teenage nephew, sobbing into his shoulder like a little kid.

“Okay, okay,” Danny soothes, on autopilot now. “Okay, okay.” Still bearing an extra human’s worth of heft, he gets the door closed; gets Eric to the couch.

“Take a breath. Catch your breath. You gotta talk to me.” With effort, he peels Eric off and props him upright, so he can look him in the eye. “Take a deep breath,” he repeats.

Eric does.

“Good. Okay. Listen to me, and answer my questions. Are you hurt?”

Eric shakes his head.

“Is anybody hurt?”

Another head shake, and Danny’s eyes close briefly in gratitude.

“Okay. Anybody pregnant?”

“Wha— _no_!” The word bursts out ragged and starts another round of sobs, so Danny pulls Eric back against his chest and lets him cry himself out. Beneath these noises, he hears footsteps descend the stairs.

“We wake Grace?” he whispers, glancing upwards.

“No. Although you might keep it down a touch.” But despite her words, Rachel’s smiling. She’s always had a soft spot for Eric, unlikely as that might seem. “Can I help at all?”

“Yeah, c’you get us some water?”

“Of course. Hi, Eric.”

“Hey, Aunt Rach,” Eric mumbles. He still hasn’t lifted his head; and he doesn’t, in fact, until Rachel returns from the kitchen and hands Danny a glass. Then he peeks up, sniffling.

“Okay. Okay, you’re okay,” Danny soothes, pressing the glass into Eric’s hand. He rubs briskly at his nephew’s shoulders while the kid manages a few small sips. Then he takes the glass back, and sets it aside.

“Okay. Are you with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

Eric nods, visibly bolstering himself. Behind them Danny can hear Rachel going back upstairs; and now that they’ve got a little more privacy, he thumbs away the worst of Eric’s tears. “It’s okay, E. I’ll help. But you gotta tell me what’s goin’ on.”

There’s one more long, hitching breath. Then Eric pushes his hair back and whispers, “I followed Mom tonight.”

“Followed her where?”

“Mike’s house.”

“I thought that was over.”

“Yeah, so did I! Prob’ly ‘cause she looked me in the eye and told me, _it’s over_.”

Danny works his jaw a moment; gives himself time to choose his next words carefully. “Eric. I’m— I’m not the guy’s biggest fan. But your mom’s a grown woman, and Mike’s kind of a bum, but he doesn’t—”

“But he does,” Eric snaps. “He _does_.”

“I have known women in that situation. I have. I don’t— I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. I mean, he’s a putz. I think Stel could do better. But I don’t— hey, hey,” Danny whispers. Because Eric’s crying in earnest again, folding in on himself even as Danny tries to get an arm around him. “Hey, take a breath, buddy.”

“I don’t know why you won’t believe me,” Eric weeps, pulling himself away. “I don’t know why none of you will _fucking believe me_.” And he curls up against the arm of the couch and heaves with sobs.

Danny’s probably never felt like this much of a jerk in his entire life.

“Okay,” he whispers. “I believe you. I believe you, huh? C’mon. You’re gonna make yourself sick— you gotta calm down.”

Eric doesn’t calm down, at least not right away. But he does let Danny pull him close again, and rock him, and press kisses to the top of his hair. “I believe you,” Danny whispers. “I believe you. I do.”

Eventually the tears run out again, and Danny’s left with an armful of Eric, sniffling and hiccupping his way back to composure. “Listen to me,” he soothes. “It’s the middle of the night; we’re not doin’ nothin’ right now. I’m gonna bring you some pajamas. Then you’re gonna sleep. Good, long sleep. And we’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

Another damp sniffle. “What if he kills her tonight?”

“Is there anything— anything your mom said, or anything you know— that makes you think he would, tonight? Anything that makes you more worried than usual?”

“No. I just— I just thought this was over, y’know? She told me it was over. And then she’s goin’ out at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night—”

“Stop,” Danny orders. “Eric. Stop. Finish your water. I’m gonna find you something to wear, an’ I’ll be right back down.”

“Okay.”

“I know it’s hard. It is. But I want you to try to stop thinkin’ about it, for tonight.”

Eric nods. His nose is still running and his eyes are bright red; and the sight of it all hurts Danny ten times more than a steel toe to the nuts.

He pats Eric’s knee before he stands. “I’ll be right back down.”

“I know.”

“Drink your water, take your shoes off,” Danny adds, because he’s having trouble peeling away, even for a minute.

But Eric can’t sleep in jeans. So Danny hustles upstairs; finds some sweatpants and his softest t-shirt before grabbing a blanket from the closet and booking it back downstairs—

To find Eric sprawled on the couch, eyes closed. Asleep in his stupid baggy jeans, anyway. So Danny approaches quietly, avoiding the creakiest floorboards, and leaves the clothes on the coffee table instead. Eases Eric’s shoes off. Then spreads the blanket over him; and maybe the shoe thing woke him up or maybe he’s half playing possum, because he’s awake enough to curl his fingers around the hem. Danny chances a ruffle to his hair before stepping away.

“Sleep good, huh?” he whispers. And gets a tiny smile in reply.

*

_2012_

His phone wakes him not long after he gets to sleep; Danny squints through the darkness at the too-bright screen. It’s 11:18pm, and Eric’s calling.

He’s used to being woken up early, by people back home forgetting the time difference. But it’s 5am in Jersey— and 5am phone calls are literally never good. He fumbles to answer.

“Eric?”

“Uncle D?”

“What’s wrong?” Danny snaps, already out of bed. Already wondering who’s hurt, or worse. Already calculating if he’ll need a payday loan to afford airfare at such short notice.

“Nothing! Well. Nobody’s— everyone’s okay.”

It’s a split second too late to stop Danny from hitting the lightswitch; he flips it down again, blind in the darkness now, and tries to swallow his temper. “Everybody’s okay?”

“Yeah. Um.”

“Eric, _say words_.”

“Did my mom call you?”

“No.”

“Okay. She’s prob’ly gonna.”

“Why?”

The next part comes too low for Danny to make out.

“Why is Stella going to call me, Eric?” Danny repeats, making an example of just how a man should enunciate his phonemes.

“Stole a car,” Eric whispers. “Um. I’m— alleged to have stolen a car.”

“You’re _alleged to have_ —” Danny sinks against the wall. “I’m gonna— kid, I’m gonna—”

“Whoop my ass?”

“If I was in Jersey, don’t think I wouldn’t.” He forces himself to breathe deeply. “Where are you now?”

“’m home. Bail wasn’t too bad, but, the, um, guy’s pressin’ charges.”

“No shit he’s pressing charges, asshole! You stole his fucking car! Oh, I’m sorry, you’re _alleged_ to have stolen his car!” And thank god he doesn’t have Grace right now, because he’s more or less screaming. Also more or less sunk to the floor by this point. Danny struggles upright, stalks back to bed, all in the silence of an open phone line.

“What’s,” Eric mumbles eventually, “what’s the worst case?”

“Worst case? You mean the maximum sentence? For a stolen motor vehicle in the state of New Jersey, it’s five years, Eric. That’s the worst case.”

“But I don’t have much on my record—”

“Okay, but you do _have_ a record. And, again, you’re a grown man! Not some punk-ass kid who can argue that their brain’s not finished yet. Jesus fuck.” Danny settles more comfortably on the edge of the bed, so he can spread his knees wide and slouch down between them. “Why’d you— why’d you steal the car?”

“I—” Eric stops, gulps hard. “I don’t know.”

“Try.”

“I don’t know! I— we ran outta cash. Ricky— he saw there was some bills in this car, in the cupholder. He said, check if the door’s unlocked. And it wasn’t. But then we realized it had one’a those spare key under-the-bumper jobbers— I thought we were just gonna grab the cash, but— I dunno. Then all of a sudden we were drivin’.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know!” Eric howls, suddenly. “Uncle D, I _don’t know_. Jus’— tryin’a have some fun.”

More silence.

“I’m sorry, Uncle D,” Eric whimpers, eventually.

“Fuckin’ better be more than sorry,” Danny shoots back, low and tight. “This shit would not be cute if you were 18. You’re 27! When I was 27, I’d made _detective_. I had a degree, I had a _kid_.”

“Okay, well, gold fuckin’ star. Right? Somebody hadda be the screw-up.”

“Oh, we have enough of those in the family, believe me!” Danny snaps. But then— with no small amount of effort, mind— he makes himself shut up.

Fact is, he could’ve helped Stella.

He could’ve helped Matty.

 _Somebody_ could’ve helped _him_.

A screw-up doesn’t have to stay a screw-up.

“Okay. Okay,” Danny whispers. “I gotcha, buddy. It’s gonna be okay.”

“’m gonna go to jail for five years? How is that okay?”

“You’re not—” Danny sighs. “You’re not gonna go to jail for five years. Listen to me. Have you slept?”

Eric lets out a slow, shaky breath, that crackles through the phone line. “No.”

“All right, so, first things first. You need sleep. Coupl’a hours at least. I will talk to your mother. I will talk to you again later.”

Another unsteady breath. Danny rubs his forehead and wishes once again to be where his nephew is— but this time to hug him, no ass-whooping involved.

“I,” Eric whispers. “I dunno what I’m doin’, man.”

“Yeah, that’s— that’s pretty obvious.”

“I don’t even know what I wanna do. Like. Like, life-wise.”

“Well. You thought about finishing school? You were only, like, two semesters short.”

“Three. Plus those couple classes I failed.”

“Well. Doesn’t have to be college.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Nobody ever said you were stupid. You’re pretty fucking smart, actually. You could finish college, no problem. Or you could find something good without college. But you gotta do _something_ , Eric.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Danny forces a smile, hopes it comes through in his voice. “Look at me, I said sleep, then I kept talkin’, huh?”

And maybe the smile works, because Eric laughs softly. “Right. Sleep. Um— I love you, Uncle D.”

“Yeah, I love you too. You give me heart attacks, but I love you. Sleep good,” Danny adds, and ends the call.

But he himself doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

*

_2015_

His alarm goes off, and Danny groans. 5:30am; he hasn’t had to wake up at such a bullshit time since he was a rookie. At least not on a daily basis.

Oh well. Nobody ever said an uncle’s job was glamorous— or that it fit neatly within business hours.

Danny hoists himself out of bed, and drags a shirt on. Clomps out of his bedroom and down the hallway, intent on starting the coffee; but, as is the routine now, he checks first to make sure Eric’s awake.

Eric’s awake. In the dim light of predawn Danny can see his nephew upright on the couch. But despite his awakeness, he’s making no moves to rise. He’s just sitting, in the dark, strangling a pillow in his lap; and it’s such an oddly somber position that Danny’s stomach gives a little flop.

He clears his throat, to announce his presence. “We good?”

“Mm.”

“You look— you’re kinda doin’ the Batman brooding thing.”

Eric says nothing.

Ah.

“It’s harder than you thought, huh?” Danny offers. “Or, messier? Less glamourous?”

“I didn’t think it’d be glamorous,” Eric rasps. “Just maybe less— sad?”

“Right.” The spaghetti stuck, exactly where Danny expected. He settles at Eric’s side, stealing some of the blanket, and waits for his nephew to say more. It doesn’t take long.

“Like— like—” Eric babbles. “It’s all cool bullet hole shit, how fast does coral grow, and then it’s, like. All of a sudden, you’re pullin’ blood samples off a dead kid’s teddy bear."

“Yeah. It works that way, sometimes.” Danny sighs. “How much sleep you get?”

“Not much.”

“Well, it’s— shit, it’s only Wednesday, huh?”

“Yeah. And I’ve got Saturday shift this week,” Eric grunts. Their eyes catch for a moment in the spare light; then Eric’s dart away. “I’m not giving up. If that’s what you’re worried about. I’m too old to give up again.”

“Don’t say that. If you’re old, I’m ancient.”

Eric snorts. “Thought you were gonna say, _don’t say that, ‘cause you should’ve give up anyway_.”

“That too.”

“I just— like.” He sighs. “Three weeks in, an’ I’ve already gotta do that thing where I psych myself up for the day. Where I pep talk myself before I can even go brush my teeth. Is it always gonna be that way?”

“No. There’s always gonna be days, where it’s this way. But it won’t be every day.”

Eric doesn’t respond to this. Instead he tips sideways and rests his head on Danny’s shoulder; and they stay like that, in silence, for a few solid minutes.

“You know, I talked to the lab director,” Danny says, eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hadda check in on you, right? ‘s my job. Eric. Apparently, you’re really good at this. Go figure.”

“She said that?”

“You know I wouldn’t lie. Hey, this is necessary work. And you’re doing it well. You shouldn’t give up. And I’d tell you the same thing if you were ten years younger.”

But Eric’s not really listening anymore. “She said I’m good at it?”

Danny smiles. “Scout’s honor. She knows you’re new to the island but she did not know you were new to the profession. Asked me what force you worked for back in Jersey; shocked as fuck when I said you hadn’t.”

“Okay,” Eric sniffs. Mashes his hand against his nose, so his voice comes out muffled. “C’n I have a hug?”

“Jesus Christ,” Danny mutters; but at the same time he’s already tugging Eric sideways, wrapping him up and squeezing as hard as he can for a few good seconds. Then he lets go, slaps the kid on the back. “Get up. Coffee’s comin’.”

“Right. Right. And— she really said I was good at it?”

The sarcasm almost gets out. It’s just the default. But at the frailty in his nephew’s voice, Danny stops it just in time.

“Eric, you are good at this,” he replies, instead. “She said you are, and that’s because you _are_. Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you believe me?”

Eric smiles. “I always believe you.”

“Well, good. You should, for goddsake. Okay. C’mon. Get up.”

“I’m up.”

“ _On-time punctuality_ , remember?”

It’s light enough now to see Eric pull a face at this, before he pushes to his feet with a groan. “I’m still tired.”

“You’re thirty, now. You’re gonna be tired for the rest of your life.”

“Mm,” Eric hums. “C’you make lasagna tonight?”

“Can I— I can make lasagna for _Saturday_. If you need something to look forward to. Yeah? C’mon, seriously, I didn’t wake up this fuckin’ early just for you to get there late.”

“Right. Message received.”

They’re both standing now. Both lingering too, until Danny laughs and grabs Eric for another quick hug. “One for the road,” he mutters. Which makes no sense, because they’re not leaving yet; and even when they do, they’ll leave together.

But Eric, of course, doesn’t protest. Just hugs back, with a sigh that sounds maybe a bit worn-out, but not at all unhappy.

**Author's Note:**

> I've said this before (not that I expect y'all to actually remember my AN's, lol) but parts of my headcanoned backstory for Eric are very personal. On the surface he and I are NOTHING alike but in a weird way he's become very dear to me because of this. Between that and the feels I gave myself writing _Gone the Sun_ , I figured it was about time for a proper Eric fic.
> 
> PS: I do not believe for an instant that the Halloween incident was just a throwaway anecdote to Eric or to Danny. Eric meant it when he said he was traumatized. As for Danny, we know he was kind of a punk in his teenage years but a respectable adult by 1998. So 1995 works well as a turning point. I like to think that realizing how much he upset his nephew contributed to Danny getting his head out of his own ass and becoming the (grumpy) caretaker we know and love from the series.
> 
> PPS: timeline notes! 1995 was inspired by the reference in ep 7x06 (of course). 2012 is set a few months before ep 3x12, when Eric is first introduced; the ep aired in January 2013 but Danny stated that Eric had stolen the car “a few months ago”. 2015 is set around ep 6x03, when Eric begins working the lab. PS I’m pretty sure he was finishing his degree between those two episodes because according to google, Danny is wrong, you very much need a bachelor’s to work in a crime lab. So unless he did college HYPERSPEED, he already had some credits already. Okay I'll shut up now.


End file.
